


Princes Among Men: A Collection of Short Fiction

by Issinder



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Shipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-27 13:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issinder/pseuds/Issinder
Summary: A collection of ficlets surrounding my Warrior of Light and his encounters with Zenos. Not sure if I would identify it as a hard ship, but I like the tension between them and I do believe that at least my WoL and Zenos do see eye to eye on a certain level.





	1. Moniker

‘Another pint for our intrepid hero from the ladies at the corner table,’ the innkeep said as he placed the tankard on the table in front of the tall, dark-skinned Roegadyn, who smiled politely at the women waving at him, one blowing him a kiss.

The Warrior of Light, they called him. The savior of Eorzea. He didn’t like either moniker much. Argryss downed his fifth, or was it sixth, pint of the evening and looked around the inn. Not a lot of people in today. The barkeep seemed unperturbed by the lack of patrons, but as a former small business owner, Argryss couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the man as he stood there, polishing the same glass for what seemed like bells. As time progressed, things didn’t get better, and the regulars slinked away one, two, three at a time, going home. In the end, it was just Argryss, the innkeeper and one solitary drinker in the corner, who seemed content to remain where he was. The owner of the establishment looked at Argryss and then at the clock. It was closing time. The Roegadyn stood up, nodding to the innkeeper and ready to leave, but the stranger in the corner had other plans.

‘Sit with me, warrior.’  
Argryss smiled politely, ready to refuse. There was always someone trying to claim him. Always. ‘I thank you for your invitation, but the inn is closing for the night and I must be heading off.’  
Two piercing blue eyes looked at him then, and Argryss felt a surge of recognition, although he couldn’t quite figure out why.  
‘Surely, our friend here won’t begrudge us one final drink,’ the man purred, walking to the bar. The innkeeper, taking one look at the man, produced two pints, mumbled something about closing the door behind them, and left to go to what were presumably living quarters in the back of the inn.

The Roegadyn frowned. ‘You shouldn’t threaten people.’  
The stranger didn’t seem to want to dignify that with a response and placed the pints down on his table, beckoning the Warrior of Light to sit with him. Argryss hesitated.  
‘Come now, my beast. Shall we not converse as we once did on the finer points of life?’

It all came flooding in like a torrent. Their fights, Zenos’ taunting, his death at his own hands, his getting a new body, everything. Argryss steadied himself on the table, trying to regain balance. The str- no, Zenos, smirked.  
‘I see your Echo has confirmed what surely you must have already known in your heart.’  
‘If you truly believe that is where you reside, you give yourself too much credit,’ Argryss responded, taking a good long gulp of his new pint.  
‘I give myself exactly as much credit as I’m owed,’ the former crown prince said without a trace of irony. ‘The look in your eye tells all, and denying it would be doing us both a disservice. I took notice of you and let you live, and in return you gave me a most precious gift. One I had thought would be my last.’ He lifted the pint and took a large swig. ‘And yet, here we both are.’

Blue and green clashed as the two locked eyes. Argryss shoved his pint aside, leaning across the table. ‘If you wish to fight, I suggest we take our business outside.’  
Zenos, too, leaned forward so their elbows were almost touching. ‘As much as I appreciate the offer, I would prefer to wait. I plan to treasure our next fight as much as the previous one, and I will not squander the opportunity by acting rashly.’  
‘And what would you have me do, pray, finding you here in this body? Do you truly expect me to let you go free?’ Argryss could feel the anger inside him at this blatant display of disregard for the position the two of them were in, but at the same time he also knew he wasn’t going to do anything. He would let the man go. Zenos knew this as well on an instinctive level, because he merely chuckled.  
‘Indeed I do, and you will.’

A hand moved forward, touching Argryss’ cheek. The Roegadyn looked at the Elezen sitting opposite him, wary of his touch but not finding it unwelcome.  
‘You and I will dance again, Warrior of Light,’ Zenos purred, running a finger across the scars he’d inflicted on their first battle.  
‘My name is Argryss.’  
Zenos smiled. ‘At last, I know your name.’  
‘You could have asked for it sooner,’ Argryss found himself responding a bit more petulantly than intended. Zenos merely smiled.  
‘I could have.’

The hand left his face, and the cold evening air coming in through the windows made the loss of warmth more profound.  
‘A good time to depart, I think,’ Zenos said, getting up. Agryss nodded.

At the door, Zenos halted. ‘Does my beast sleep well, I wonder.’  
‘As well as can be expected,’ the Roegadyn answered truthfully.  
‘Hmm,’ Zenos said. Then, something else crossed his mind and he smirked. ‘You don’t mind the moniker of beast?’  
Argryss found himself smiling a bit wryly and shaking his head. ‘Not so much. It has an honesty to it I appreciate. It seems to suit me better than Warrior of Light or Saviour, in any case.’  
Their eyes locked once again, and Zenos nodded at him. ‘Until we meet again, Argryss my beast.’  
‘Good night, Zenos.’  
‘...Good night.’

As the door closed, Argryss downed first his own pint and then what was left in the other one. He would go home and not tell a soul. He knew this was unwise, but he also knew that Zenos was not the only one possessive of their encounters, and he would not see this one ruined. As he left the inn and breathed in the midnight air, he felt a spark of joy and laughed. The beast would fight another day.


	2. Parry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Two monsters meet for a sparring session..._

He rushed at him like a torrent. A metal clang as lance parried sword, and the Garlean riding the skin of another man found himself being pushed back. He caught himself from sliding too far backwards, and pushed off once more in the direction of his opponent. The broad-shouldered Roegadyn adopted a defensive stance, but Zenos noticed a slight shift in his back leg and adjusted his attack slightly to follow wherever his beast would dodge to next.

To the left. His prey jumped back, elusive as ever, only to pounce forward immediately, driving his lance directly at the crown prince’s head. Well, former crown prince. Zenos hated to admit it, but this new form suited him only moderately. True, the Elezen was reasonably tall, but not as tall as he, and he felt the body respond to his commands with a more sluggish pace than he’d find acceptable in his own skin. He also felt drained quicker, which made him angry. He enjoyed their sparring session, but it was a long shot from what he wanted it to be. The joy derived from the heat of battle, of blood baying for more blood, the clash of metal on metal and flesh against flesh, was diminished to a snack instead of the proper five-course meal it had been. He managed to dodge the lance, but felt it graze the skin on his cheek in passing. In a flash, he made eye-contact with his foe and he saw him smile.

‘Enough,’ Zenos said after a few more thrusts and parries had been exchanged. ‘Tis a disappointing spectacle and I am weary.’  
Argryss placed his lance back on his back and walked over to his sparring partner, who had sheathed his sword and was now sitting in the grass sporting an ill-tempered look.  
‘It’s still misbehaving?’ The Roegadyn asked, sitting down beside him.  
‘A question hardly worth the asking, would you not agree? Tis clear from every movement that I find myself burdened with a suboptimal vessel,’ Zenos sneered.  
‘Decades of training cannot simply be transferred in the span of a few weeks,’ Argryss noted dryly.  
‘Says the former baker who mastered the lancer’s art in mere months,’ Zenos commented in equally dry measure.  
‘Point taken. Yet, you have made progress.’  
Zenos fell back upon the grass, looking up at the sky and its myriad of small clouds. There had been a spot of rain earlier, and wet grass did so entice him with its smell that the prince had felt eager to take this skin suit out for a bit of a skirmish. Having now reached his limit, however, he felt emptier than he had in a long while.  
‘Insufficient progress in my view,’ he responded, feeling the wetness below him soak into his garments. He felt a warm glow around him as his bruises were mended, and the cut on his cheek gave off a tingling sensation before disappearing entirely. Argryss lowered his hand as his opponent smirked.  
‘Dealer of damage, healer of hurts?’  
The Roegadyn smirked. ‘After a fashion. My healing skills are in their infancy, but at least I can alleviate some aches.’  
‘Certain aches may not be alleviated, no matter how good the application of aether,’ Zenos mused, tracing a line lazily from cloud to cloud with his finger.  
‘Indeed. One cannot restore limbs or organs entirely missing, or bring the dead back to life.’ The latter was accompanied by a look Zenos knew all too well. The anger was still there, coiled up like a serpent. No matter how many times they sparred, this Warrior of Light refused to let him forget the ills he’d supposedly committed. Zenos was no fool. He knew he’s stepped on many in his quest for a proper challenge, innocents and assailants alike. He made no excuses for this, for there was nothing to apologise for. Some were meant to be stepped on, it was simply their lot in life. He and his beast never did see eye to eye on that particular subject, so they generally left it unspoken. Today, however, his friend seemed more likely to press the issue.

‘Do you expect some form of apology still?’ the Garlean answered.  
‘Not as such,’ was the response, ‘but a less stagnant outlook on life would be a welcome change.’  
The prince frowned. ‘You think me stagnant? Daring.’  
The Roegadyn shrugged. ‘Not so much considering I can best you easily in your current state. All I ask is that you adopt a more suitable outlook. You may have a body, but I highly doubt you to be immortal.’ Their eyes met and both men noted the sincerity of the other. Zenos looked away first.  
‘Perhaps, but what would you ask of me?’ he grumbled. ‘To atone would be to admit my actions so far have been misled, which is not only a falsehood but also a way to do both of us a tremendous disservice.’  
‘How do you mean?’  
‘Would the people still think of you, even for a second, were it not for me? Did I not raise you in their esteem as you rose in mine? Were our encounters not a series of exchanges that suited us both in equal yet different ways?’  
Argryss rubbed the back of his head. ‘We are but part of a larger whole.’  
‘An important part, I might add,’ Zenos added. ‘Let us not make less of ourselves to elevate the unworthy.’  
‘And who are they, pray?’  
‘Whoever is hiding behind your coattails, my beast,’ was the response.  
‘I would fault your upbringing-’  
‘You’d be correct.’  
‘-but that is only part of the problem. You’ve been unbested for too long and you’ve forgotten how to be humble. Perhaps you should learn.’

The next thing Zenos knew, he was being flung across the field. He rolled several times, then skidded to a halt. Looking up, he noticed the Warrior of Light had gotten up, power oozing from every pore. The Echo. Zenos snorted, wiping some blades of grass off his head.  
‘You would attack me in this state, _hero_?’ he spat.  
‘I would have you crawl before me like a worm if that’s what it takes.’ A flash and the Warrior was on him, grabbing him by the front of his leather armour, flinging him up into the air, only to drive him back into the ground with a well-aimed thrust with the back of his lance. Zenos felt the wind knocked out of him and gasped for air. He felt himself grabbed by the hair and the tip of a lance pressing into his lower back.  
‘Should I run you through and leave you here, no one will come for you,’ the Warrior hissed in his ear. ‘I shall make sure they do not. Do you understand?’  
Zenos coughed up blood and glanced up at the face of his assailant, where he was met with stoicism.  
‘You would leave me here to die?’  
‘Perhaps you’d be able to reach help, perhaps not,’ the Roegadyn mused, pressing his lance harder into the back of the Elezen flesh his enemy was wearing. ‘However, doing so without the use of ones legs is nothing to sneeze at. Learning the healing arts has taught me a useful thing or two about the body, and how everything connects. Knowledge I had not intended to put to any bad practice, save this very instance. Isn’t it a splendid dichotomy?’

Zenos felt his heart skip a beat. Yes. This feeling. This was what he longed for. He started to laugh. Argryss frowned.  
‘There he is. There is my splendid beast. My enemy in his truest form.’ Blood was still dripping from the corner of his mouth. A familiar sight. ‘You never disappoint me. I am glad.’  
Zenos closed his eyes and felt himself drifting away. Let the beast do as he pleases, he thought, as long as this will not be the last time we dance.

Argryss sighed as he felt the body in his hands go limp. He had intended to hold back more, but this man needed to be brought down a peg or two, or twelve, and it seemed the only voice he heeded was one of violence. Watching him bounce across the field like a rubber ball had been disturbingly satisfying, but should not be repeated until the body had recovered sufficiently. At this juncture, the man would be broken before he became a true threat again. Despite his better judgement, Argryss caught himself smiling. How easy it had been to switch places with the monster. To become the one not to be outmatched, to watch the other flounder and hope for better.

He focused and used what little healing he knew to repair some of the damage he’d just done. Then, he lifted the body and teleported back home.


	3. Scent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Agryss goes back to his roots for a spell. Ties in with[this Tumblr post](https://issinder.tumblr.com/post/178825881441/theres-a-soft-knock-on-the-door-a-tall). _

Zenos awoke to the smell of bread in the oven. He squinted, trying to keep out most of the light flooding in through the window and directly onto his face. Whoever had decided to place the… bed? He felt around to determine if that’s where he was. Yes, bed. Whoever had decided to place it here must have some form of masochistic streak in them. Sleeping in was a luxury he’d learned to appreciate, and having it taken away from him like this was cruel and unusual punishment. He groaned softly, but not softly enough.  
‘Awake?’ A head popped around the screen at the foot end of the bed, and there stood his beast… in an apron.  
‘Unreasonably so,’ Zenos replied, still squinting. ‘What o’clock is it?’  
‘Still early, I’m afraid,’ Argryss replied, smiling.  
‘One of your baker habits, I take it?’  
The Roegadyn nodded. ‘Exactly. It is custom to get up early to prepare for the morning rush. Bread must be ready and waiting when the shop opens. Disappointed customers make for bad business.’  
‘I’m disappointed to be woken up this early,’ Zenos grumbled.  
‘Lucky for me you’re not a customer,’ Argryss replied deadpan. No response was forthcoming.

_That shut him up_ , Agryss thought to himself, and set to work on making some smaller buns with the dough he had left over. The dough was supple and responded to his expert touch in the same manner it always had. He hummed to himself as he made little balls out of the dough, then squished them slightly to create a more oval shape. He looked at the hourglass he’d set. ‘Not too long now.’

‘Can you at least go about your business quietly,’ grumbled his guest from the bed.  
Argryss sighed. ‘You could at least be grateful I did not leave you in that field as I had originally intended,’ he chided.  
‘You would not have left me. Twould make for an unfitting end,’ the Garlean responded. ‘You know as well as I that our final dance is yet to come.’  
‘That’s neither here nor there,’ Argryss responded, refusing to admit that Zenos may have the right of it. Luckily, the hourglass provided him with some relief as the last few grains fell into the reservoir at the bottom. ‘That should do it. Now to let it rest.’  
He opened the bottom of the stove and with a peel scooped out a round piece of bread with a star pattern on it, which Zenos would have surely found appetising if the lout would have bothered to get up and take a look.  
He placed the bread in another part of the oven, away from the fire but not from the warmth, and placed the smaller buns in the space the large bread had occupied. Once more he closed the door, grabbed a different hourglass from the shelf, spun it round and turned back to see how his guest was doing. Zenos had taken a pillow and covered his head with it.  
‘Do you wish for me to suffocate you in your sleep?’ the Roegadyn smirked.  
‘Do not presume to do anything to me in my sleep,’ came the muffled response. Zenos lifted the pillow. ‘I am simply trying to drown out this blasted light you insist on letting in.’  
Argryss raised an eyebrow. ‘You have been sleeping for close to two days. I think you’ve had enough for now.’  
Zenos’ eyes narrowed. ‘A day wasted not training. Why did you not wake me sooner?’  
‘You needed recovery time, I provided it. Do not waste my time by making demands your current flesh cannot fulfill,’ Argryss responded coolly.  
‘It seems that my weakened state has made you arrogant,’ Zenos commented. ‘Such behaviour ill suits a hero of the people.’  
‘Yet your arrogance has not lessened in the slightest, although you are currently in no state to make good on any threats that come with it.’ Argryss sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning over his charge. ‘I suggest we bury the hatchet for now. There is no real challenge to be had.’

The look Zenos gave him could have withered an entire flower bed, but the Roegadyn was unperturbed. He went back to the oven where the bread was slowly coming into its own. The smell was amazing and for a spell Argryss forgot why he’d ever wanted to do something different. Why he had ever wanted to travel and leave his bakery to begin with. Of course, the sentiment did not last for very long once he remembered who the bread was for. He took a fresh cloth from the rack and carefully folded it around the still-warm bread.

‘I’m going on an errand. Try not to break anything while I’m out. Oh, and mind the hourglass. Once it’s done, please take the buns out of the oven with the peel and place them in the side opening. Do you understand?’  
Zenos stretched and looked at the various things Argryss was pointing at. ‘An easy enough task, I would think. This flesh may be weak but the mind has not dulled.’  
‘Excellent. I shall return shortly.’ The Roegadyn strode out the door, cloth with bread in hand.

Nero Scaeva, meanwhile, was trying to wrap his head around this infernal radio kit he was trying to fix. Honestly, he’d already spent too many hours on it and it was beginning to ever so slowly do his head in.  
‘What plagues you now, hm? What could it possibly be this time?’ he grumbled at no part of the device in particular. ‘Why will you not just work? I’m sure all the bits are th- no, wait. Hang on.’ He fiddled with it some more. ‘There. Now they’re all there. Can you feel the unity? Can you? THEN REWARD ME!’

The device remained quiet, but there was a knock on the door. Nero rubbed his eyes, hoping it wasn’t Rowena demanding further smallclothes designs, and stood up to see what visitor would appear at such a maddeningly early hour.

‘Hello again.’  
Nero blinked, wracking his brain about who this tall, muscular Roegadyn was.  
‘We’ve met, yesterday was it?’ Nero gave him a smile. ‘Something about lavender.’  
The man beamed. ‘Exactly, and I offered to bake you some bread so you’d actually eat.’  
It was then that Nero realised what the man was carrying with him in a simple white cloth, and how delicious it smelled. ‘Is that... basil?’  
‘’Indeed,’ the Roegadyn smiled, ‘with a hint of lemon.’  
‘Yes, I… I did notice. How lovely. I am truly grateful you actually took the time.‘  
The man smiled a bit sheepishly as he handed it over. ‘I’m afraid I have company so I cannot linger, but this needn’t be the last time I bake you anything.’  
Nero looked at him. ‘While your reasons elude me, I appreciate the gesture.’  
The man shrugged and for a moment Nero noticed a darkness behind the eyes that wasn’t there before. ‘It seems I have a knack for looking after stray Garleans.’  
‘... A trait worthy of admiration in these troubled times,’ Nero offered.  
The Roegadyn smiled, the darkness replaced with a kind of weariness one gets from carrying too many things on ones shoulders. ‘Thank you for your kind words. Good luck with your project. I hope you manage to finish it soon.’  
‘I’ve never wished for anything more in all my days,’ the Garlean sighed, lifting the bread to his face and taking a deep breath to fill his entire being with its scent. ‘Smelling more of this, however, is a very, very close second.’

They said their goodbyes, and as Argryss walked down the path that lead him back to the road, he heard a crazy laughing fit coming from the house behind him, mixed in with the crackling noise of some type of radio springing to life.


	4. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Our dreams are reflections of the things that occupy our thoughts during the day. At least, that is what the Warrior of Light believes when Zenos wakes up in cold sweat..._

In the dim light, Zenos couldn’t make out anything other than what was next to where he lay. He noted some surgical tools on a table next to him, and some blood spatter. The wooden ceiling fan above his head spun round and round at a languid pace, and the figure towering over him smiled as he continued his work.

Zenos looked to the space above his head, in which there was a shelf occupied by several jars and their various labels. Lungs, he read; liver; spleen; tendons (various). He frowned and looked down to see the towering figure rummage around inside his chest, pulling out his still beating heart.  
‘This is your heart,’ the figure said.  
Zenos tried to speak but found he could not articulate.  
‘I took out your tongue first,’ the figure said in an off-hand tone of voice. ‘Your opinions displease me.’

Zenos put his head back down and thought: a trick of the mind, none of this is real.  
‘Oh, it’s very real’ said the figure as if he were reading his thoughts. ‘You have supped at my table, benefited from my time and training, and now I take what is rightfully mine.’  
He placed the heart in a large wooden bowl, where it beated a while longer, then stilled. Argryss smiled as he stroked Zenos’s head gently while his other hand disappeared from view. ‘I’m afraid this is the only way in which you are still useful. I am truly sorry it had to come to this.’  
As he brought down a heavy butcher’s knife on his throat, Zenos awoke with a start, his heart pounding and his lungs screaming for air, as if he’d just forgotten about breathing all together for the past hour.

On the other side of the screen, Argryss stirred. He’d heard the man in his bed groan and toss before, but whatever the displaced Garlean inside the Elezen body had concocted for himself this night must have been truly harrowing to have woken him up so thoroughly. He rubbed his eyes and willed himself awake.  
‘Zenos?’

The voice of his tormentor sounded from behind the screen. The prince grabbed his chest and tried to steady himself. Breathe in, breathe out.  
‘You chase me everywhere, beast. Can you not at least stay out of my mind come nightfall?’  
Argryss raised his eyebrows. This was a new development.  
‘Was it a nightmare?’  
‘No, it was a splendid dream and everyone had generous helpings of sweets and we danced,’ came the snarled reply from behind the screen.

So it was to be a long night, then? Very well, Argryss thought to himself. He got up and walked to the stove. He grabbed a small pot from a shelf and poured some milk into it.  
‘What are you busying yourself with? I require no succor or kindness from my tormentor,’ Zenos said, lying on his back and closing his eyes. He would sleep if he willed it hard enough, he thought. Surely, that was how it always worked. The images of the Warrior of Light bringing the knife to bear on his neck, however, lingered on his retina and Zenos found that the image disturbed him enough to waylay any notion of sleep. Grumbling, he threw off the covers, which stank of panic-induced sweat, placed his two feet solidly upon the wooden floor and breathed deeply.

Argryss meanwhile, was busy ensuring the milk did not come to boil while preparing some herbs to make a slumber tea. His mother had taught him the recipe when he was younger and it had aided him on those days when he started his journey as eikon slayer and could not sleep after the day had brought just a touch too much excitement. Haurchefant’s death, in particular, had required vast amounts of tea to still the frantic heart inside of him as he lost his dear friend. Only recently had Argryss come to terms with what was expected of him. He was a tool, a weapon to be wielded. That was his fate. Not to live to a ripe old age, baking sweet things for the urchins and travellers who happened to pass by. No. He would go down gloriously, bathed in light and the blood of his enemies, only to join the aether and become legend. Not a person, something larger than life and malleable. Some might find joy in the prospect, but Argryss was not one of those people. Many days, he ardently wished for a smaller, less oppressive fate, but if Hydaelyn heard him, she cared not a whit for what he wanted.

He took the pan off the fire and poured two mugs of hot milk; one for Zenos and one for himself. He placed the herbs in some metal mesh casings and watched the milk darken as it soaked up the colour and flavours of its new companion. Satisfied that both mugs were to taste he removed the casings, picked up the mugs and turned around to find Zenos sitting on the couch. The blanket and pillow marking Argryss’s temporary bunk had been casually thrown into a nearby chair. The prince himself sat leaning forward, arms on his thighs, head bent down, eyes staring into nothingness.

Argryss placed Zenos’s mug, giving off a scent of lavender, chamomile, valerian, on the table in front of him. A fine selection of herbs perfectly balanced to soothe the senses and smoothe over any harm the mind had done to the body. Zenos took the mug from the table and gently breathed in the steam, letting it wash over his face and into his pores. He still felt the sweat of the night’s terror cling to him, but a wash would have to wait until a later time. For now, he would gladly sit here and gather up his thoughts while his nose brought solace to his aching mind.  
‘Our nightmares tell us what we fear,’ Argryss said to his companion as he sat down next to him. ‘Should you wish to share yours with me, perhaps we can lay to rest what ails you into such a sudden, painful awakening.’  
Zenos eyed him, unsure of how to proceed.  
‘And should the subject of my nightmares be you, beast, what then?’  
Argryss stared into his steaming mug and thought. ‘That depends. What did I do in your mind’s eye?’  
‘You removed my various organs, kept them in jars, cut out my tongue because you could not stand to hear me speak and-’ Zenos halted. Should he confide this much to his beast? What would happen?  
Argryss noted the abruptness with which Zenos stopped speaking, but did not press the issue. He had a rough idea of what the Garlean was going to say, in any case.  
‘Let’s start from the beginning, then. Organs in jars, you say?’  
Zenos nodded.  
‘Perhaps you feel your courage has been taken away from you,’ Argryss mused. ‘You literally lacked guts.’  
Zenos huffed. ‘A rather on-the-nose analogy, but do continue.’  
‘The next step: you said I cut out your tongue?’  
‘Yes. Apparently, you cared not for what I said,’ Zenos noted snidely.  
Argryss grinned. ‘We both know that’s not a total falsehood, but I would never go that far.’  
‘States the Warrior who threatened to take away my ability to walk when last we fought,’ Zenos retorted.  
‘Did you see me cutting out your tongue?’ Argryss continued, not taking the bait.  
‘I did not. You merely said you had taken it at your earliest convenience and I found myself not being able to speak,’ Zenos answered, frowning.  
‘Being rendered mute in your dreams often denotes a sense of powerlessness in the real world. A fear of judgement.’  
‘Whose judgement should I fear, pray? That of your splendid colleagues, the Scions? Peons, to a man, and you chief among them, Slave of Light,’ Zenos spat, placing the mug back on the table with a thud, spilling some of its contents. All this talk of cowardice aggravated him. Zenos yae Galvus was no coward and he could not stand being referred to as one.  
‘This is a fear that resides within you. I cannot tell who you fear, only that you do fear,’ Argryss bit back. ‘Would you like to finish this or shall this, too, remain unresolved until you’ve become stronger?’  
Zenos stared at him blankly for a few minutes. Could his beast truly be serious about continuing this farce? Argryss moved not an inch, and the staring contest lasted for what seemed like bells. Eventually, Zenos reached for his mug again, saying ‘if you insist’.  
‘Very well, then…’ Argryss started, looking at Zenos expectantly.  
‘You would know what came after?’ Zenos replied.  
‘If you’d be so kind as to indulge me,’ the Roegadyn answered.  
Zenos remained silent for a moment, taking a sip of his slumber tea.  
‘You took out my heart, held it in your hands and placed it in a bowl where, eventually, it stopped,’ Zenos said after a while. Argryss looked at him quietly, then took a sip of his own tea.  
‘Well, beast? You had the other answers so readily. Would you care to explain why you took my heart from me and let it beat its last?’ Zenos sneered.  
Argryss eyed his houseguest. ‘The heart itself can stand for any number of things: courage, love, truth. Having your heart taken away can mean a substantial change in a relationship.’

The Warrior leaned forward, staring into his mug. Zenos raised an eyebrow.  
‘Yes?’  
‘If I am to interpret the final matter, I need to know what I am to you.’  
The frankness of the question took Zenos by surprise, and the prince was momentarily speechless before bursting out in a crude fit of laughter.  
‘The beast would know his own significance! You are the centre of the hunt, the quickening of my pulse, the rush of blood in my veins as we dance upon the field of battle, not a single hint of remorse or pity as we exchange blows and parries until one of us, finally, no longer stands!’ Zenos replied, his voice taking on an almost singsong quality in the answering.

Argryss smiled. ‘As descriptive as that is, one might describe a relationship to any of the following in a similar fashion: prey, enemy… lover.’  
Zenos almost choked on his slumber tea. Argryss’s laughter was the low, rumbling kind as the prince gave him a look best described as disgusted hysterics.  
‘How you manage to misconstrue what we are is beyond me, but I would appreciate no further mention of any romantic liaisons between the two of us,’ the prince snapped.  
‘Very well,’ Argryss said, ‘that leaves us with either prey or enemy, unless I am missing another option I did not mention?’ He gave Zenos a look. ‘You did call me friend once.’  
Zenos nodded, still not quite recovered from the earlier use of the L-word. ‘I cannot deny my own words, so I shall not.’  
Argryss nodded, a small smile on his face. ‘I appear to be many different things simultaneously, all of them conflicting. Perhaps it is best if you decide which one is dominant.’  
Zenos took another sip of his tea, and another one. It had reached that exact temperature that made it perfect to drink. Argryss was doing the same, and for awhile they sipped their tea in silence.

‘To summarise,’ Zenos said after some sips and contemplation, ‘I feel powerless and I am afraid of being judged, and our relationship is changing, but in what way, I cannot say until I decide what you are to me exactly. Is this an apt summary, my beast?’  
Argryss nodded. ‘I’d say it is, yes.’  
Zenos narrowed his eyes. ‘And how do I dispel this fear, this feeling of being powerless?’  
Argryss looked him in the eye. ‘I cannot say. That answer, too, must come from you.’  
The Garlean snorted. ‘Exactly the response I was expecting. I suppose you could always make a living as some type of travelling astrologian, spinning yarns to old Elezen women about how their sons will come into much fame and fortune, and how the spirits of their deceased cats still linger in their house.’  
Argryss laughed. ‘That’s one idea. For a moment I had considered leaving notes of good fortune in my buns as a type of endearing philosophical gift of sorts, but I could never quite get it to work and no one like mushy paper in their bread.’

Zenos yawned.  
‘Time to return to our scheduled slumber methinks, my beast. Unless you object?’  
Argryss couldn’t stifle his own yawn and nodded. Both men stood up, leaving their mugs on the table. Argryss walked over to his wardrobe and took out some fresh bedlinen.  
‘I assume you have need of these?’ he said, handing them to the prince. Zenos took them gladly, stripping his bed of its current sheets and tossing them in a heap next to his bed, seeing as the foot end was already occupied by a stack of paperwork his beast ardently refused to even look at.  
‘The phrase you’re looking for is “thank you”, by the way,’ Argryss noted, insistent on teaching his houseguest some manners while he was here. ‘You may be a prince of Garlemald, but manners are manners no matter who or what you are.’  
‘A lesson I shall endeavour to something something,’ Zenos replied as he practically dove under the sheets. His eyelids were getting heavier by the second.  
‘Good night, Zenos.’  
Good night, my beast.’

Argryss fluffed up his pillow and pretty soon the Roegadyn was snoring softly, which was nothing compared to the sawmill currently occupying his bed. Luckily, he was a pretty sound sleeper these days.


End file.
